


Le Soleil Levant

by Enjoponine (tinydustbinflower)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Eponine - Freeform, F/M, Les Mis - Freeform, Les Miserables - Freeform, Love, Sex, combeferre - Freeform, combeferre x eponine, eponine x combeferre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydustbinflower/pseuds/Enjoponine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of two lovers meant to live together in safety at last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Le Soleil Levant

The rising sunlight had found it's way into the room, seething into cracks, under doors, and through window panes. Rushing past the entwined bodies of two lovers, covering their sins as it ran onto the wall and up the ceiling. Feeling it's way around corners, behind painted portraits of blue and red, off wasted drinks glinting and rusting. Down to the floor it crept, washing out the darkness until there was no more, no more of anything but the soft breathing of the two on the bed.

They held hands softly, the man's eyes closed but moved so when he opens them the girl is the first thing he sees, downcast and loving. The girl has her arm trapped under his side, wedged between the sheets and his flesh, bruised from past problems never to be seen again. Likely the one that ran the length of her back; purple, green, sickly, and terrible, visible along with her bare chest. Poised and prominent amongst the linen and harsh material of a lost shirt during the night, cast away frantically during the speed of the others kiss. Their legs are as tangled as the girls hair, one on top of the other, twisted around the sheets that splayed out around them. Clinging onto the other as if nothing else mattered but the closeness.

The mans other hand rested on her thigh, the skin white and soft under his touch, a faint cut hiding beneath his thumb. The same cut he had caressed as he marveled over her, warm and beautiful beneath him. He had gasped as she had pulled off her dress, wondering in awe and hunger at how anyone could ever lay a harsh hand on her. Seething as he had pulled her down to him, kissing her softly while she breathed into him. Greedily moving to hold her tighter, he would never hurt her, not the sweet girl who laughed at his jokes and smiled at his kindness.

She had always been consistent around him, so had he, for that matter. They had talked before once in a while; her being defiant and brave, him caring and quiet. She had told him of her life, one night when the others had gone home and she didn't want to return to hers just yet. Taking a chance on him with secrets she couldn't trust with anyone else. He was appalled by her, by her life, by her determination to live. They had talked until the early hours of the morning, never truly seeing each other until they kissed, raw, and drenched with want. That was all it took.

One night after another they found themselves together, innocent and sleepily. Cast out into the rain, pulled into the shadows, crying and giggling at their own voices and actions. All it had taken was a kiss and they both got what they had always wanted.

The first time was tentative; he was careful not to harm her, the kissing controlled instead of wild. She had held onto him as though it was her dear life at stake, closing her eyes as they fell onto each other, blocking him from her soul. The next time was not so decent. She had clawed at him, angry from a fight with the men he vowed to kill if ever seen again. He had let her, brushing his fingers over her back soothingly until she lay a trembling mess, tears streaming down the sharp face he had grown to love.

It was a while before they met again, and when they finally were left to their own devices she had kissed him gently, before pulling him along back to the room they laid in now. She had pulled off her dress before he could get a word in, laying on his bed with a glint in her eye, hair flowing out behind her like a crown. There was nothing else he could do in that moment but love her, love her cunning, her daring, her body... Everything he did, had done, would do, came down to her. And when she told him the same; one night when she had fallen asleep next to him without any trouble, he had smiled in relief.

That was the night of their first true connection. He had always held her carefully, but this time he let his need take over, knowing she wouldn't mind his forwardness. They had fallen out of their clothes, strewn across the room haphazardly to be retrieved in the wee hours of the afternoon. Kissing and touching as much as they could reach. She had held his neck, pulling him to her, reaching his hair and running her fingers through it, down his chest, around his leg. He had groaned into her lips, causing her to smile almost devilishly. Giggling as he returned the action, grappling at the body under him, all the while amazed at her. Just her.

The next morning they had laid on the bed in each others arms, not wanting to return to the day, to the people around them, to the world and the future ahead. Wanting nothing but the other, finally having all they ever needed right there in that moment. Holding hands and smiling.

It all changed when she was forced back into her old habits, working roughly with the con-artists, stealing and wasting away into nothing. She had left him in the dust, breaking all ties, going missing for days on end. He had gotten to her just in time as the men were beating her to death, so angry, so terrified to loose her. He had saved her and brought her home, to the room that started it all, their room.

She had cried, sobbing uncontrollably as he shushed her, stroking her hair which was matted and dirty. He had cleaned her, washing away blood and caring for bruises that ran across her like a puzzle. It was a while before she was able to stand, even longer before she kissed him again, starting with his hand- each finger one by one- trailing down his arm, up his shoulder, and to his lips. Seemingly longer still before she let him lean upon her, trailing down the dress until it fell at their feet. Longer even then until he was able to brush his hands down her flesh, sweetly and calm before the desire took over and she was able to whisper she would never leave him again.

They never did; he gripped her protectively during the day, watched her when she was not by his side. She smiled and kissed him without worry in secret, held his hand in her small one, squeezing it to reassure him she was still there. Always there. Those days were the finest, though filled to the brim with adrenaline. He was with her and that was all that mattered. The nights were even better; quickened, craving, and soaring with the two of them, with all the love they could give.

On that morning, with the sun interrupting their peace, the two lovers laid in the others arms, sleeping the day away... Not knowing soon the revolution they were waiting for would start, that their fates would change, and they would finally meet at the gates of heaven, wrapped in clothes they had worn on the night of the kiss that created who they were.

She would be first, next her brother covered in finery, a rosary on his chest. Then slowly the barricade boys would arrive, no longer riddled with bullet holes or crying for the last shot to end their lives, one by one wandering into the shiny gates after her brother. Smiles on their faces at last.

It would be a while before he would show, but he knew she would wait. His love, no longer battered and skinny but full and clean, as he always saw her in his dreams.

When he arrived, a smile broke onto her lips and she rushed to him, ignoring at last his friends faces behind him as she kissed him, holding him, touching as much as she could without being too indecent. Laughing again as tears of joy ran down her face, not caring that he had died, but that he was there, finally with her in safety.

Their marble leader and his drunken lover were the last to come, fresh and wild. Holding onto the only battered thing on the cloud, the makeshift red flag of the revolution which was high with pride. He nodded once in their direction and smiled at his comrades, his brothers, walking swiftly past into the gates and beyond. Still holding hands with the man who was never without a drink, vindicated finally in death.

They were the last to go through after their friends who turned back to watch them. Hand in hand they took one last look back at the streets of France, serene and cramped, and then they, too, walked into the gates and beyond. Forever known as Éponine and Combeferre, the two of the revolution who found everything they ever needed in the other.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello! This is my first Éponine/Combeferre story:) I worked really hard on it, I must admit. I'm sort of new to this shipping (I usually go with Enjolras/Éponine) but I'm falling for this one rapidly! Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it, thank you for all your continued support you guys really are the best:3  
> Xx


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